Seti touched me, and pointed to her, and I pointed to the child. We stood breathless. Then of a sudden, stooping down, Merapi lifted up the child and held it towards its father. But, lo! now no longer was it dead; nay, it laughed and laughed, and seeing him, seemed to throw its arms about his neck, and to kiss him on the lips. Moreover, the agony in the woman’s eyes turned to joy unspeakable, and she became more beautiful than a star. Then, laughing like the child, Merapi turned to Seti, beckoned, and was gone. “We have seen the dead,” he said to me presently, “and, oh! Ana, _the dead still live!_” That night, ere dawn, a cry rang through the palace, waking me from my sleep. This was the cry: “The good god Pharaoh is no more! The hawk Seti has flown to heaven!” At the burial of Pharaoh, I laid the halves of the broken cup upon his breast, that he might drink therefrom in the Day of Resurrection. Here ends the writing of the Scribe Ana, the Counsellor and Companion of the King, by him beloved. THE END